Sense No Evil
by Bloodrose the Pyrate
Summary: Gabriel recalls his time spent in the Holy Land during the Crusades.
1. The Penitent Man

I have had this dream many times. Facing Frankenstein's creation, experiencing his goodness and innocence has caused me to recall it...

_The afternoon sun shone down on the Arabian Desert. The heat was unbearable, and the weight of Gabriel's chainmail made it even more so. Hunched over in the sand, he mopped his brow. He sat amongst his comrades in the camp, awaiting their next orders._

The Church had sent him, along with the Knights Templar of France, to the Holy Land to rid it of a people whom they called savages. Saracens, the men called them. He had heard horrible stories from his comrades about what punishments the Saracens carried out on their own people, let alone what they did to their prisoners. It was enough to make a man decide that he would never be taken alive in this land. Many of the men carried poison in their pouches, just in case.

Suddenly he spied the lines of men begin to rise as a man rode into the camp on a brilliant white Arabian stallion. "Who is that man?" he asked Etienne, a man in his company.

Etienne looked at Gabriel like he'd lost his mind. "Art thou mad, Gabriel?" he said, getting up, "It is thy King."

Gabriel shrugged his shoulders and remained seated. "He is not my King."

Etienne and some of the others shook their heads at him. "Thy King or not, he is the one who feeds and clothes thee." Gabriel finally relented, and pulled himself to his feet.

The lines of men had parted to let the King through. The sight was something to behold, men kneeling in a wave as the rider and his splendid horse passed by. All of them.

Except for Gabriel.

"Kneel, you fool!" said Etienne, trying to pull Gabriel down with him.

"I kneel to no man."

By this time the company's commander had seen what was happening. The king had begun a speech to the kneeling men, and the commander did not want to be reprimanded for one of his men being out of line.

"Kneel, Van Helsing," he said.

"I kneel to no man," Gabriel repeated. The commander stood up. He paused, then backhanded Gabriel across the face with a gauntleted hand. Gabriel staggered backward, and he could feel the blood trickling out of his mouth.

"I commanded thee to kneel."

"I kneel only to God."

"The king IS God, you fool. He rules by divine right."

"He is not God. He is human, as are you and I."

The commander was becoming exasperated. Reeling back again, he caught Gabriel square on the jaw. Gabriel did not fight back. He was here in the name of God, and he did not want to fight against the other soldiers who were also here in His name. He also did not want to be sent away in disgrace. But he would not kneel to anyone but the Lord.

"I give to thee one last chance. Kneel," said the commander. Gabriel stood his ground.

The commander was on him instantly, beating on Gabriel's face with his hands and his body with the shaft of a polearm. Gabriel felt something in his back give way, as he plunged into darkness...


	2. Etienne

_Gabriel rolled over on his blankets, and was immediately sorry he had. Pain hit his back sharply, and he cried out. The outburst caused him even more pain, but this time he did not cry out, gasping instead. Pain seared across his ribcage as he inhaled. Both his head and his jaw ached from the commander's relentless beating. There was a bandage wrapped around his head; most likely Etienne's doing._

No sooner had the name left his thoughts that light flooded the tent, and Etienne stepped through the opening. "Gabriel," he said, "thank the Lord you've woken, even though you would wake the dead by your screaming." Etienne lowered himself onto a stool, the only piece of furniture in the tent they shared.  
"It hurts even to breathe, Etienne," he retorted sharply, in the same French he'd been addressed in. Languages came easy to Gabriel, especially the Romance languages. Latin was the language of the Church, after all.

"Your ribs are broken, Gabriel," said Etienne.  
"I know."

"You are fortunate that it was only your ribs." Gabriel merely grunted. Even in the dim light cast by the lantern which hung from the center of the tent, the frustration on Etienne's face was plain. "I have lost count of the times I have discussed with you the way that things are."

"It is wrong, Etienne. You know it is wrong."

"The next time, le Marchand may kill you," said Etienne, referring to their commanding officer.

"If he kills me, so be it. All will be right in the eyes of the Lord, and le Marchand will burn in Hell."

"Ah, Gabriel…" Etienne sighed. He knew it was pointless, and decided to change the subject. "The men are saying that we will be moving soon. They say the King means to begin an assault on the Holy City."

"Finally," said Gabriel. "How soon?"

"Two weeks, perhaps."

Gabriel did not reply. He saw by Etienne's face that there was more to be told. "What is it, Etienne?"

_  
"We have been selected…" Etienne's voice trailed off. "For…" Etienne's face slowly lost its color._

"For what?" demanded Gabriel. There was no answer. "Etienne…"

"For scouts."

Heedless of the pain, Gabriel sighed and shifted to a position where he could look at Etienne.

"Scouts," he breathed. It was not often in these wars that scouts returned alive. "I am truly sorry, my friend," said Gabriel. Guilt overcame him. Gabriel knew that Etienne had a wife and children back in France, and that he was afraid he might leave them destitute if he did not return from the Crusades alive. Gabriel also knew that it was only due to Etienne's association with him that he had also been chosen as a scout. "I will speak with le Marchand," he said. "Perhaps I can persuade him not to send you."

"No, Gabriel," said Etienne, forcefully. "Do you not see? You will only make things worse."

"Perhaps," said Gabriel, "although I cannot imagine anything worse. But for your sake, I will hold my tongue."

Etienne sighed in relief. "May God bless you should you keep your word. It has not been my experience that Gabriel Van Helsing holds his tongue for long."

"And it has not been my experience that Etienne D'Aubigny has allowed him to speak."

Etienne laughed. Even on his sickbed, Gabriel still maintained his dark sense of humor. "I will leave you to rest now, my friend," he said, rising to leave. "You will be in need of your strength." Once again, sunlight filled the tent and was gone as Etienne took his leave.

"Strength be damned," muttered Gabriel under his breath. "What we need is divine intervention." 

These were his last words as a dreamless, healing sleep claimed him once more.


End file.
